I really can’t emphasize enough just how guilty I feel over my dog’s death yesterday. I’m still trying to process it.
The vets told us months ago that she had a tumor in her abdomen that was inoperable; as in, if they tried to operate on it there was a high risk of it spreading. So we essentially had her in mini-hospice; the fact that she made it to 13 just last month was miraculous. I thought she could make it to at least May or June, despite it becoming harder and harder for her to breathe.
This weekend was when things took a turn for the worse. At first I thought it was just the pollen making it difficult for her to breathe, but by Sunday she couldn’t move; I had to yank the leash even though I was told not to to get her to go outside for bathroom time, and even then she barely moved.
So imagine the horror when she, at her weakest point, decided to jump onto the couch, and I “helped” her by doing the worst thing possible: carrying her by her legs and bottom.
She was slumped, her mouth was open, and she was breathing at all. Then foam and fluids started coming out; she drowned from fluids in her lungs. And I, a 28 year old guy, melted down like crazy - alone with only her.
How can I get that out of my mind? I saw my dog die, and it’s partially my fault…